


Grow Old With Me

by ashamedbliss



Series: Once and Future Queen [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Always-a-girl!Merlin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Schmoop, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Burns, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Past Character Death, Safeword Use, Scars, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin has to use a safeword during a scene, neither of them expect the tears of sorrow, tears of joy, and rollercoaster of emotions that follow...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grow Old With Me

**Author's Note:**

> finally wrote this one! it ended up being a monster, but I included a lot of major things that I've wanted to include for a while now. Also it gets really fluffy at the end, fuck. Title is from 'Grow Old With Me' by Tom Odell, I also really liked 'Caught' by Florence + The Machine - I feel like it fits Merlin's ideas really well, whereas the former is mainly from Arthur's perspective.
> 
> I use the safe sex colour system in this one again, as I did in the first part. Green = go ahead, yellow = slow down/I'm uncomfortable, red = stop that right now.
> 
>  **Warnings:** safeword use (no actual bodily harm caused), descriptions of: past character death, scarring, internalised homophobia (blink and you'll miss it).

“I have a gift for you.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raise, and his cock stirs at the dripping-honey tone in Merlin’s voice. He sits up a bit straighter on the bed, still naked after his bath and after his new manservant (incredibly efficient, not an idiot) had left him in peace.

Merlin smiles at him, almost predatory, from where she stands near the door. Following a few quiet discussions with the more senior members of his council, Arthur had arranged for Merlin to have rooms of her own, despite the fact that most of her nights are spent under Arthur’s bedcovers. It would be improper of them to be officially sharing bedchambers before she was announced as his intended, at the very earliest. “Yes,” she says, answering Arthur’s unasked question, and that tone along with the gold flickering in her eyes is dangerous. A few of the candles go out around the room, a more sultry light casting across their surroundings now. “I learnt a new spell.”

Merlin’s eyes flash gold, and her silk dress falls away from her body. She tilts her head and it floats off the floor to fold over the back of a chair. Stepping out of her slippers, she begins to walk towards Arthur, who can’t resist a jibe.

“A month now, Merlin, and you still can’t resist being a servant every now and then, can you?” he says as she crawls onto the bed, her hips swaying dangerously. She puts a hand on his thigh, not close enough to his already half-hard cock. “You said you had a new spell for me,” he continues as she leans down to kiss his lips. “That wasn’t... very... impressive,” he manages to mumble between her lips, stopping there as his mouth is thoroughly plunged, Merlin’s breasts pressed against the expanse of his chest. His hands automatically go to her waist, riding the curves of her hips. Such wide hips; the thought of her one day carrying their baby between those hips makes Arthur’s cock twitch enough for Merlin to feel it.

She breaks for air, gasping a little, her hair already beginning to fall out of whatever twist or knot her very own maidservant would’ve put it in. Upon meeting Arthur’s eyes, she grins devilishly again, before moving down his chest, settling herself between Arthur’s spread legs. He can’t help but wonder how this young, pretty girl is _his_ , why she is drawn to him, an old king with scars across his skin and a little too much fat on his body. Arthur looks at her breasts and her navel and gods, her smile, her fingers as she grasps his cock delicately.

“I learnt a spell,” Merlin repeats, bending down to breathe over the head of Arthur’s cock. Arthur feels feverish, as if he’s about to break into a sweat. “With this spell, I don’t need to breathe.”

With that, Merlin takes the head of Arthur’s cock between her lips, before she sucks him down to the root. Arthur instinctively grips his headboard, furrowing his brow as he tries to work out why not breathing would be important, until--

“Fuck!” he shouts hoarsely, as if it’s a war cry on the battlefield. Merlin looks up at him from beneath her eyelashes, not quite making eye contact as she buries her nose in the curls around the base of Arthur’s cock. She stays there, still swallowing, Arthur’s cock definitely by now at the entrance of her throat, and she just keeps _swallowing_.

“You witch, you _fucking_ witch, gods, right _there_ , Merlin, such a naughty girl,” Arthur manages, trying to string words together in his head, the kind of words he knows Merlin loves, the kind that gets her wet and slick for him. “Choke yourself on my cock, take it, fuck, I--”

Arthur’s world nearly comes crashing in on him when Merlin chuckles low in her throat, and he can feel it all the way through his groin. “ _Enough_ ,” he commands, and he sees the way Merlin bites her lip as she pulls off his cock, breathing once more. “I have a gift for you, too,” he says eventually, once he’s pulled himself back from that edge, the point of no return.

Merlin’s face lights up at his words, and he wishes he could treasure that expression forever, that he could put it in his pocket and keep it close for all eternity. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you look like a puppy,” Arthur says, and Merlin pouts playfully. He crawls to the edge of the bed, arse high in the air as he reaches under it for a small sack that jangles as he retrieves it. He sits back up again, the sack between his legs.

“Well?” Merlin says, eagerly, placing her hands on Arthur’s thighs. Her lips are all puffed up, and there’s a bit of dribble on her chin that she hasn’t wiped away. Arthur finds it oddly erotic.

“Do you remember that conversation we had about restraint, and you always saying your magic was a final resort?” Arthur deepens his voice almost naturally; the kind of tone of command he uses for Merlin and no one else. It signals the beginning of this moment, this scene, this power dynamic between them. Merlin is the queen of his heart, if not his actual queen quite yet, but now is not her time to rule. Now is her time to serve, and for them both to be rewarded by it, to be brought closer together by it.

As if on cue, Merlin dips her head slightly, eyes trained on the centre of Arthur’s chest. “Yes, sire,” she says softly, as if praying to the gods and not talking to Arthur. Sometimes, he doesn’t feel worthy. “I... it’s like I can never fully give myself to you, because my magic... it’ll stop me from fully surrendering, it’s always there in case something happens.”

Arthur reaches into the sack and pulls out a pair of heavy manacles, placing them on the bed and throwing the sack back onto the floor. “Sire, manacles won’t--”

“Touch them,” Arthur instructs, and Merlin does so. As soon as her finger touches one of the cuffs, though, she recoils it sharply, holding the hand to her chest. “Colour?” Arthur asks in a slightly lighter, quieter tone, as if checking that his lover is comfortable is a taboo.

“Green,” Merlin whispers, before she finds her voice. “It doesn’t hurt. It just... they feel cold. They’re... they’re cold iron, aren’t they?” she gasps. “I thought they were only myth.”

“Not myth. They’re real,” Arthur says, almost proud. “I had a sorcerer in the town make them for me. I did have to divulge a secret or two to him, though, as he was worried I was going to use them for actual magical prisoners.” Arthur rolls his eyes. “He built in a self-release catch, just here,” he says, flicking a tiny piece of metal, “to ensure I couldn’t actually use them on persons against their will, and just in case you don’t trust me when you’re in these.”

Merlin looks truly hurt this time. “I trust you, Arthur,” she says with conviction. “I trust you with my life.” She pauses for a moment, realising she’s met his eyes. She lowers them, long eyelashes fanning out against her cheekbones. “Use them on me. Please.”

“Lie on your back. Arms towards the headboard.”

Merlin complies immediately, stretching out like a cat, pale skin flawless aside from the odd bruise or two from their last rough session a few nights ago now. He loves her like this, when she puts all of her skin on display for him, only him. It makes his heart swell as much as his cock.

Arthur straddles Merlin’s waist, his cock sitting between her breasts as he loops the manacles around one of the supports in his headboard. He closes one around one of Merlin’s dainty wrists, and then the other. Once fully trapped, Merlin shivers a full-body shudder.

“How does it feel?” Arthur asks, thumbing the red ribbon of her Pendragon necklace, tight around her neck, another restraint. He smiles, giving her breasts a squeeze before climbing off her body and reaching for the bedside table.

“Cold. Like I’ve jumped in a lake at winter,” Merlin says to Arthur’s back. “Empty, I guess. Powerless.”

Arthur turns to her, holding up a strip of cloth silently, wordlessly asking if she wants to play. Her eyes dart between it and his face.

Instead of responding, she looks up to the canopy above the bed, wiggling her fingers in the manacles and stretching her legs out, testing the restraints. “Hmmm. Yes, okay. Thank you, sire.”

Arthur beams, pressing a kiss to her forehead before gently guiding her head off the pillows, laying the blindfold over her eyes before tying it in a flat knot at the back of her head. “Okay?” he asks, and when she nods he leans down and kisses her.

Arthur realises, very quickly, that depriving Merlin of her magic, her movement, and her main sense might’ve been his downfall.

Merlin gives her everything to the kiss, every resource she has left to her. She moans loudly, quickly wrapping her legs around Arthur’s waist and forcibly manoeuvring him into place, where his cock sits in the curls above her cunt and his chest presses against hers. They break for air a few moments later as she turns towards his neck, licking the salty skin there and breathing in his scent, making up for sensory deprivation in other areas.

It drives Arthur wild, to see her so needy like this, so demanding yet so helpless. He’s hard again, now, even after the pause for preparation, and he knows he won’t be able to last forever.

“What am I to do with you, Merlin?” he asks as he sits up, kneeling between Merlin’s legs. He swipes one finger along her cunt, Merlin gasping at the sudden touch and driving her body down, but he’s too quick. He admires the pearly liquid gathered on his fingertip, before he smears it down Merlin’s stomach, his lady squirming at the sensation. “I can’t tell if you want to play, or if you just want me to get on with it,” he drawls, removing all touch from her body, watching her head turn this way and that, and then become still, listening acutely for his movements.

Arthur smiles to himself as he takes his cock in hand, bluntly pressing it against her soaked opening. He won’t breech her like this, at this angle, but she thrashes on the bed at the feel of it and wriggles to gain his cock entry. He holds her hips still with one strong forearm pressed across them, feeding her just an inch of his cock before he removes it again.

“That’s not _fair_ ,” Merlin whines, genuinely whines, and her voice is already so wrecked that Arthur can’t help but be proud of his work.

“Shut up, Merlin,” he says, growls even, and Merlin falls silent, as she is supposed to during their games. A light sweat has broken out on her skin and it shines in the candlelight, especially the streak of her own juices that Arthur had painted down her stomach. Arthur has an idea.

“Do you remember when we played with the wax, _Mer_ lin?” He can’t get enough of saying her name, will say it with his dying breath. “I was going to make a mould of your cunt, to take with me on quests, for those lonely evenings...” Arthur says this as he thumbs Merlin’s clit gently, watching her begin to melt into the covers, languid and warm like the wax he was speaking of. “You loved that wax, didn’t you?”

Merlin pauses for a moment and then nods. Her fingers wriggle in the manacles again as Arthur presses his thumb hard against her clit, before he reaches for the candlestick at the side of the bed. He lets a drip of wax fall onto Merlin’s skin and she mewls softly at it. Unable to see the wax harden in the near-dark of his chambers, Arthur brings the flame of the candle much closer, too close, to Merlin’s skin, in order to inspect his work.

She screams.

“Red!” she shouts, as Arthur rushes to put the candle back on the nightstand without setting everything aflame. “Red, red, let me out oh Gods, red, Arthur, _help_!”

Merlin’s fingers are blindly scrabbling for the release clasp of the manacles, heels digging uselessly into the bed, but Arthur gets there quicker, opening them up easily and setting Merlin free. She rips the blindfold off, sitting up, and Arthur can see that she’s crying. “Merlin, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Arthur says as she crawls into his lap, legs akimbo as she cries with ugly, noisy sobs. Her fingernails scrabble for purchase on Arthur’s back, trying to melt into him, trying to bury under his skin and wear it like armour. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, my darling,” he says into her hair, holding her face into the crook of his neck, the game and his own needs well forgotten now. He holds her like that for hours, years, seconds.

“You didn’t--” Merlin cuts herself off with a loud sniff and a sigh, one hand clumsily wiping her eyes. Her chest shudders, still wracked with sobs. Arthur offers her the blindfold to dry her eyes on, and she half-laughs, though it sounds more like a hiccup. “You didn’t hurt me. I just... I panicked. I’m not good with fire. I...” Merlin pauses, seemingly changing what she was going to say. “It wasn’t even losing my magic, it was the sight, mostly... if I’d seen you moving it closer...”

“I feel rotten,” Arthur says, kissing Merlin’s hair over and over, rocking her back and forth as if he was trying to quiet a crying babe. He freezes, locking his arms around her.

“What?” Merlin mumbles.

“You said yellow the last time we used the wax, didn’t you?” Arthur asks, holding Merlin tighter to his chest. “Oh, Merlin. Why am I such an idiot?”

“Prat is more suitable,” Merlin says, her lips smushed against Arthur’s neck. He releases her slightly, letting her sit up in his lap and look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” he says again, because he made this beautiful woman cry, once again, and he can’t forgive himself even if she will. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Just know that I don’t like fires, really, and we’re good,” she says, giving him a small smile. She tugs at his hand so that they move, each in turn shuffling under the heavy coverings on the bed, the scene well and truly over. Arthur takes the manacles and throws them to the other side of the room, where they clatter on the floor.

Merlin curls into Arthur, allowing him to spoon her, to protect and shield her from all of the evil in the world. He strokes her cheekbone, a heavy arm draped over her fragile body. “Why?” Arthur asks quietly, simply, softly as to not upset Merlin again, as if he is some horrible beast who can hurt her with just his words.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Merlin says, curling in further on herself.

“Merlin,” Arthur says with a most unroyal whine in his voice, pulling at her hip so that she’ll roll over and face him. “If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, we should probably not keep secrets from each other.” The expression on Merlin’s face goes a little soft at that, so he continues. “I’ll tell you a secret if you tell me why you don’t like fires.”

“Promise?” she mumbles, and she looks so young, so naïve compared to him that he is overwhelmed by a feeling of the need to _protect_ when he looks into her wide blue eyes.

“I swear, on my life, and the lives of everyone in Camelot,” Arthur says sincerely, and Merlin nods. She emerges a little more from beneath the covers, and Arthur can see now that she’s been chewing her lip, her face blotchy from crying. She’s still beautiful, he thinks, he _knows_.

“When I was a little girl, my best friend was a boy called Will.”

Arthur takes both of her hands between his, under the duvet, and he doesn’t let them go. Merlin paints him a picture of the village she grew up in, a tiny impoverished hamlet called Ealdor where she grew up as more of a boy than a girl, joining the men on hunting parties and never once enjoying the stitching lessons her mother made her endure. She became proficient with a bow and arrow, and she smiles a bit when Arthur exclaims “so that _wasn’t_ beginner’s luck in the clearing!”. She tells him of the adventures she and Will used to partake in, and Arthur suddenly finds himself wishing for a childhood he never really had.

“My magic was developing in fits and bursts,” Merlin says, gripping Arthur’s fingers tight. He doesn’t complain. “Will and my mother were the only ones in the village who knew about it. We were practicing in the hearth of my home, trying to light a fire, but it went wrong.” Her eyes flutter shut as she exhales, and Arthur extricates one of his hands to wipe away the tear rolling towards Merlin’s nose. “It just... there was so much fire, suddenly. It took to everything, immediately, it’d been such a dry summer and the timber in the walls and supports was so dry. I told Will to run, tried to get him out of there--”

“Did you...” Arthur pauses, clearing his throat. “Did you try using magic to put it out?”

Merlin shuts her eyes, shaking her head slightly. Arthur’s thumb continues to caress her cheek. “It was too unpredictable... now, my magic a part of me, it does exactly as I want, but back then it wouldn’t have. And I was so scared, I didn’t think. I tried to run, but one of the timbers in the roof caved in, falling down on me. I... I...” Merlin begins sobbing, now, and Arthur’s heart breaks. “I managed to get out, but Will... they only... once the fire was out. He...”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, pulling his love close. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“I have to, though. I killed my best friend, whether I liked it or not. That’s why I came to Camelot, when I was old enough to. I couldn’t stand seeing Will’s parents, and them telling me that it was okay, all the time. It wasn’t. That’s why I still carry the scars,” she whispers, the last phrase in a low tone. She closes her eyes.

“Scars?” Arthur asks, because Merlin’s skin is flawless. He’s inspected every inch of it, memorised it. Wordlessly she pulls away from him, and he worries that he’s pushed her too far, pushed her away, but she sits up in the bed, facing away from him.

Slowly, the skin of her back begins to ripple with golden light, leaving puckered, warped skin in its place, some of it white and some of it a pale pink. “Merlin,” Arthur whispers, sitting up and blinking hard. “Was this when...?”

“When the roof fell on me. I managed to fling it off with magic, a few seconds too late,” she says, head hanging low. Arthur wishes he could see her face and that he could make it all better, but this is one battle that has already been fought, a battle he cannot win on her behalf.

“Why did you hide it from me?” Arthur asks, and he can’t hide the hurt in his voice. Merlin turns to him, then, looking over her shoulder, eyes wet with tears.

“Because I was worried you would think I was ugly,” Merlin says, steamrolling on when Arthur tries to object. “I used a glamour to hide it. I could remove it, but it would be like removing my connection to Will, wiping all traces of him from me.” She’s looked away from Arthur now, and he reaches out to touch her shoulder blade. She tenses but he continues, dragging a finger lightly over the rippled skin, before he leans in to press a kiss to it. Her breath hitches. “You don’t find it ugly? Disgusting?”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, turning Merlin towards him now, both kneeling in the middle of the bed. “I could never. You’re beautiful, both inside and out, and I don’t want you using those glamours around me again, do you understand?”

Merlin smiles, just a twitching of her lips, but Arthur kisses them chastely anyway. “It means so much to me that you told me about Will. I can see how important he was to you.”

“He was my best friend,” Merlin says, nodding. “But now I have you.”

Arthur laughs, a little nervously. “They sound like pretty big boots to fill,” he tries, and it makes Merlin smile again. “My secret is nothing in comparison, truly.”

“Tell me,” Merlin says with genuine conviction, holding Arthur’s hands between hers this time.

“Let’s get back in the bed, first,” Arthur suggests, and Merlin presses against the length of him once they’re under the covers, her cold toes against the warmth of his shins. “It’s... about something you teased me about, actually.”

“Me? Teasing you? That doesn’t sound like a thing I would do,” Merlin smiles, mirth having returned to her eyes. Arthur gives half a smile in return, and she sobers. “Please, continue. Sorry.”

Arthur swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do you remember that time when you teased me about me enjoying you touching my...” Arthur can’t bring himself to say ‘hole’, and so just turns slightly red instead. Merlin raises her eyebrows a bit. “And you made comments about me enjoying a man’s company.”

Merlin’s mouth has fallen open slightly, eyes wide. Arthur hurries on. “Well. One evening, Gwaine, the bastard, took me down to The Rising Sun and got me hideously drunk, when I was a young prince. And, well. There was a gentleman there who seemed a good fellow, and offered to give me a shoulder to walk me back through the town.”

“Did he...?” Merlin breathes.

“No, not by force, and that’s what I’m ashamed of. I went willingly. It’s not _right_ , Merlin, I’ve liked women my whole life. I just... it took a long time after that evening to not feel dirty about it, and I still regret it to this day. So that’s why I don’t like talking about it much. There.”

Arthur was a furious shade of red by the time he had finished speaking. Merlin’s hands cup his face. “That was a long time ago, Arthur. Maybe we both... maybe we both need to finally learn to put the past behind us, perhaps.”

Arthur studies Merlin’s face as she smiles at him, high cheekbones and big blue eyes, so young but already so wise, already having seen too much of this cruel world. Her smile is one of hope and kindness, one she gives to everyone she passes in the street, fuelled by some kind of inner joy that Arthur could only marvel at. Merlin reaches up to her neck to scratch at the skin there, and his eyes are drawn to the ribbon that wraps around her throat. He frowns at it, now, and what it means; their game used to be about possession, but now it’s so much more than that. They own each other, their bodies and their secrets, two souls now so intertwined that they can do nothing but face the destiny laid out for them.

“May I?” Arthur asks, stroking the ribbon of the necklace. Merlin makes a face but nods, as Arthur unfastens it and holds it between his palms. He looks up into Merlin’s eyes, soft in the candlelight and soft with confusion as he reaches for her left hand, wrapping the ribbon around her ring finger. There’s too much of it, and by the time Arthur has finished wrapping Merlin’s entire finger in it, she’s giggling softly and his tongue has stuck out of the corner of his mouth. “Shh, you,” he says, all warmth and love. “This is supposed to be romantic.”

“ _This_ would’ve been easier,” Merlin says, taking Arthur’s hands in her own. She takes off his thumb ring, slipping it over the ribbon on her finger, two contrasting pieces of Pendragon jewellery adorning her left hand. She looks up at him, grinning.

Arthur looks at her, and she bursts into giggles. “Yes. Yes, Arthur, I’ll marry you.”

“Witch,” he mutters, dejected. “You haven’t even let me ask you yet.”

Merlin bites her lip, trying to reign in her happiness. “Okay, alright. Go on then, but you already know the answer.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, before taking Merlin’s hands between his own. “Merlin Emrys, love of my life, the other side of my coin, my light in the darkness,” he begins, smiling a little as Merlin begins crying again, tears of happiness this time. “Would you bless my each and every waking moment by doing me the honour of becoming my wife, my once and future queen, the woman without whom I could not live a single day?”

Merlin is crying freely now, the tears on her cheeks mixed with jubilant laughter. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, you prat, you clotpole,” she says as she peppers his face with kisses, before smacking one on his lips and holding him close. “You only had to ask.”

Arthur smiles, rolling his eyes again behind Merlin’s back, and looks forward to so many more years of _this_.


End file.
